When Joshua was two, being the precocious first child, he tackled reading and writing early. By age three, he could write most of his letters in capital letters, most of which were backwards. He could write his name, but the letters weren't necessarily in order, and often took up the entire page. I have the proof scratched into my antique bed headboard. Still, at the time, I didnt know how impressive that was. Because he was the driving force behind his learning anything, I didnt realize that most kids don't have that drive.
When he was four, he obessessed over counting. He had decided he was going to learn how to count to 100. Every car ride, every time we got into the car, before I could buckle him into his car seat, like a good little rainman, he'd begin "one...two...three...four...five..." until he'd get quite far "seventy-one...seventy-two...seventy-three...seventy-five...OH!! Argh! one...two...three...four..."
"Son, you can just start back at seventy if you mess up in the "seventies" rather than go all the way back to one."
It didnt matter, he would insist upon starting at one. Simultaneously, he decided he was going to learn how to read these large digits. Grocery shoping became an activity I looked forward to even more than I had before. Not.
"This is four dollars and seventy nine cents. This is one dollar and thiry-nine cents. This is eighty-nine cents" he would chant walking behind me while I'd push the cart containing Ruth whose eyes were glazing over.
Ruth eventually became three and had interest in learning to read and write like her older brother who was in kindergarten at the time. She would ask to learn, but, it became clear quickly she did NOT want to be taught. Jeremy and I are not the type of parents to force feed our kids anything, but if they say "Show me how to..." we'll drop what we're doing, more or less, and show them.
So, from three to four, we were locked into a passive aggressive battle. She'd ask us to show her letters, and then sit there determined not to try. We just figured she was curious because of her brother's school work, but not quite old enough. She was different from him, and it was OK if it didn't "happen" at the same age. I knew at some point in her life, she'd have to learn how to write. If she was seven and still unable to write her name, well, then I'd worry. I was not about to continue in that vein, so I decided to send her to preschool when she was four.
I had discovered through Joshua's previous educational experience that kindergarten these days is very grueling. By then end of the year, they can read and write well. I didn't do that stuff till I was in first grade! His teacher told us at orientation in may that it would be helpful if they came in after the summer at least exposed minimally to the alphabet and knowing how to write their names with "A capital letter and all lowercase afterward. Not all capitals." She sent us home with nursery rhymes and the games to promote their "Phonemic Awareness" (insert echo here).
So, I figured that at least in preschool, they would teach Ruth to write her name, since I couldn't. And on her own, by five, she learned how to read at a much earlier age than her brother. By the second week of kindergarten her teacher was showing us the stories she was writing. Walking home after "meet the teacher" night, Jeremy and I looked at each other and said "I didn't even know she could do that!" Ruth tends to hide her "abilities" from us. Sometimes I think she doesn't want us to know what she is capable of figuring we would expect less of her.
Fast foward a few years. Hannah, now age four, has finally decided to be interested in letters. She learned how to write an H, an A, and an O. We get pages and pages filled with these letters. She finally learned how to write her name, sort-of. Her father and siblings has taken to calling her "Hammah" since she struggles with making N's. Thankfully she has a better sense of humor than her siblings who would have been in tears by now.
Hammah and Jeremy have this game. She writes her "letters" on a page, and asks him to "read" her "story." Being the funny, silly, daddy that he is, Jeremy will put on his best narrative voice, stand upright, take a deep breath and begin changing the pitch of his voice for each "word."
"H-h-h-h-h-haaaaaaaa-h... H-h-h-h-h... h-o-o-o-o-oh... HA! H-h-ho-h..." he said, making each "word" sound like it was from a foreign language, making the "H-h-h's" sound gutteral.
So this morning, after "reading" her "stories" for the umpteenth time, Jeremy decided to reverse rolls.
"Now," he instructed as he leaned over her, his seemingly massive body creating a shadow over her petite preschool self, "I'm going to write a letter and YOU tell me what it is."
The older sibs saw him making a D, then an A and Ruth blurts "you're writing Daddy!"
"Nope," he replied as he finished off with another D, then motioned to Ruth to not give it away. What is this letter?"
Hannah replied with a shrug.
"This is a D. Duh-duh- Dee" He instructed.
Remember what sound an "A" makes?
Hannah, with an ornery glint in her eye looked up at her father who was leaning over her, made eye contact, batted her eyes at her daddy, reached up and gently touched his cheek and giggled, "It's nice and shady!"
Still making eye-contact, and without missing a beat, Jeremy said, "Aaaaaa" Then he looked at her older brother and sister who were giggling through the events of the morning, and said flatly "I don't think Hannah wants to learn her letters because it's 'nice and shady' " He returned his gaze back at Hannah, who had continued looking at him and rubbing his cheek.
Continuing to look at her father straight in the eye, "Dee, Daddy. This is a Dee. Duh-duh-dee," Hannah chimed in without missing a beat.
I was sitting across the table from her as my husband looked back at me with his best poker face trying to contain his chuckle. About that point, I lost it, and that made the kids lose it with me. I don't know if it was the way my husband said it or the expression on his face afterward, or if it was the way she deflected his attempts that made me lose it, but I fell off my chair laughing at this distinct little personality that had decided to show itself.
Unlike her brother who would have "argh-ed and Oh-ed!" and fussed and fumed, but still attempted it, because he was driven and wouldn't let you leave until he mastered it, unlike her older sister who would have just sat their all mopey-eyed and would begin to cry and whine, "I can't do it," Hannah decided to go for the "Let me see if my cuteness and humor will distract him" method.
Heaven help her kindergarten teacher.
